Raefindan limped alongside Aeron, who had helped him pack, and reminded him of the word he had hauled out at need, not having remembered it until that moment: kleenex. He thought about it as best he could as he sniffed and sneezed and limped along as best he could, feeling as if his waterlogged head was still underwater with that merchant. Kleenex. When was the last time he had used the word? He could not remember when, but he remembered the look of the place he had been...

.... a small room with a bed far more comfortable than any he had slept in during the last few weeks... soft curtains on windows, the glass panes of which were thin as the morning's hoarfrost; here windows were at least an inch thick. A cold. That's what it was called.... to catch cold....blow your nose into a kleenex....what a strange word, and a strange spelling! The meaning was Clean, but ex? He couldn't place it.

"What was that you said, Raefindan?" Aeron asked him.

"What? I said?" He had been mumbling without realizing it. "I rebeber the place I was last wed I used that word, kleedex. It is a fidne, thid, soft sheet folded over od itself, about the size of a sball parchbet, ad you use it as a dose rag."

"Ugh! You would get it all over your hands! It is too thin!"

Raefindan laughed, which turned to a coughing fit. He groaned, and the ache in his left hip felt worse than ever.

"Oh, what I woudd't do for sub cough medicid."

"Medus - did?" Aeron asked. "Who is Medus, and what did he do, and what has he to do with coughing?"

"A healig draught, to you. It's a codcoctiod-" Aeron looked at him blankly "-ub, it is a bix of wud herb's juice ad other thigs, and drickig it bakes the coughig stop for a little while."

"Ah," Aeron nodded wisely. "You want an herbalist."

"Doe kiddig."

"Now you have turned the offspring of goats into a thing you do! You turn what is said on it's ear, Raefindan!"

He smiled for sheer pleasure. "Aerod, you bake be forget by cold, ad that's sayig subthig!"

"Of course, it is. Why would it not be?"

Raefindan laughed again, which turned to a fit of sneezing, seven in a row. That had to be significant for something, he thought to himself ruefully. Ah yes, significant. That confounded dream. He would have to tell Melonnin about it at some point, when he was ready.

They were out of Lorien before the sun had risen halfway up the sky. No matter what Amroth might say, Ædegard was going to stay in it - for now. He had many questions that he knew Amroth would never answer. But now there was another Elf, Erebemlin, who looked to have answers, and might be willing to give them. As they continued on, Ædegard moved among the company until he was by Erebemlin.

"Sir, I would speak with you, just you and I, if you are willing."

Erebemlin looked at him quizzically, nodded, and together they moved off a little way, riding side by side.

"I have many questions about this quest we are on, sir-"

"You have my leave to call me Erebemlin, mellon."

"Thank you. I do not know which question to ask first, there are so many, but this is the way of it. I met a Gondorian blacksmith a few weeks back, and enjoyed his friendship for a few hours. I came to think that I knew what kind of lad he was. Then he came ill, and the next time I saw him, he was as you see him now, Amroth. What has become of my blacksmith friend? Is he gone? Is he hidden? Does Amroth have his willingness to use his body? Is my friend even alive anymore? And if so, will he ever come back?"

Aeron sighed as he watched Raefindan sneeze. "I have always found," Aeron remarked, "than when a nose rag is wanting a sleeve does the job just as well. Is that not so, Gwyll?" He elbowed her in the ribs as she stifled a giggle.

"Uncouth, but yes it does do the job. I would rather have a nose rag though."

"You mean Cleanex," said Aeron with a wink. "Besides a nose rag is such a bother. It takes up so much room and more time to blow your nose. A Cleanex sounds even worse." He nodded and grinned.

He studied the red haired man and wondered where he came from. He came from a land with queer but wonderful speech. And he had an odd case of stating the obvious and turning things into actions, such as when he said the word kidding. "I wonder how one would act like a kid," he mused.

Gwyllion coughed and said, "You act like one all the time."

He gasped. "Me?"

"Yes you. You are dreafully annoying and wild."

Aeron grinned, lowered, his head, baaed like a kid goat, and ran toward his sister, ramming his head into her stomach. She tumbled to the ground and said, "See. Exactly like a kid."

Location: Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars

Posts: 4,396

Anorien: Dec 20

Mellonin drew near, cringing with distaste. "Aeron, after giving such counsel, will you wash his shirt? Raefindan, heed him not. He means mischief. "

Raefindan looked at her, bleary-eyed, and said, "Bud I hab do dose rag."

Ravion laughed in disbelief. Mellonin met Ravion's glance for the first time since he had woken her that morning. Hastily returning her gaze to Raefindan, she stepped toward a shrub. "Like this." Primly closing one nostril at a time, each sharp snort into the shrub was followed by a dainty sniff. Then drawing herself to her full height and inhaling through wide nostrils, she looked down her nose at Aeron. "Sleeves indeed."

"I will not wrestle him again til he changes his shirt, " said Ravion.

"I should think not," said Mellonin, marching forward with a shudder and a grimace.

"He will learn, " said Ravion. "Dirty clothes are misery on the road in winter."

Erebemlin was taken aback by Ædegard’s questions. This was the first time he had considered another spirit belonging to Amroth’s new body. Hesitantly, he replied, “I must be honest with you, Ædegard. I had not thought of his body belonging to any other.” The elf paused and studied his steed’s thick mane. “Whatever means allowed Amroth to return in this state…I do not think the young blacksmith’s spirit would be destroyed. I cannot say for sure, because it involves powers beyond my understanding. It is likely that Amroth’s will is much stronger the boy’s…”

Ædegard nodded, “Will he ever come back?”

“I do not know, mellon. I do not know.”

The pair grew silent and continued to ride, each in his thoughts.

~*~*~
Taitheneb had remained silent thus far. Silmaethor was discussing something with one of the Men, and the others stayed close together chatting like close friends. The elf felt slightly uncomfortable, and he shifted his weight on his bay.

Amroth led them east along the southern border of the forest and soon they passed the last row of mellyrn. Taitheneb swallowed hard with sadness. Why was he leaving the golden forest?

After much thought on Erebemlin's words, another question came to Ædegard.

"Please, Erebemlin, I hope that you do not mind further questions, but I must know if there are answers. It is this way. Why does Amroth have need of a human blacksmith's body? Has his own perished? Or does he send himself back from over the sea where the Elves go? I do not know the way of Elves, so my questions must seem foolish to you. But I must ask."

Mellonin's advice for clearing his nose seemed well on the face of it, but she had no illness. Raefindan knew that the viscosity of what his body was producing would not allow of such a prim delivery. Green, no less! That was bad.

"Green means I have pneumonia," he said to himself, "which means this blamed buggery illness has been incubating for some time! I wonder what I did to myself?"

"What is ya, Raefindan?" Aeron asked, walking beside him. He was quick with his ears, compared with most folk. He had to be for thieving, and he was sure that he could make out most of the strange things Raefindan said on the first try. "I know new and moan, but not ya. And how can you have it?"

Raefindan had not realized he had been talking out loud. It was no surprise, he hardly knew what was going on around him, his head throbbed so.

"What about the other thing he said?" Gwyllion put in. "Ink you baiting? Those words do not go together either! And what has ink to do with fishing?"

Raefindan groaned. "They are just words frub by owd coudtry. I do dot doe how to say theb your way, by head swibs so." He coughed long and hard, and fell to his knees with the effort of it, and spit green stuff. When he was done, he looked at the others, who had stopped, looking more worried than they had. "Is there a towd cubig sood? Baybe you should leave be there so that I cad rest ad regaid by health, ad thed I cad catch up to you od the way. This cold reaches by bodes."

Ravion, standing ahead of the company with Gond's lead in his hands, glanced worriedly back at Raefindan. The man was wan and his body was racked with fits of coughing and sneezing. He hoped that the man was not seriously ill...this was no time for one of their companions to be incapacitated. Mellonin's features were permeated with concern, though Aeron was still pestering the red-haired man with questions.

"This cold reaches my bones," Raefindan said weakly--or something approximating that, and Ravion turned, worried by the frailty of the man's voice. He turned just in time to see Raefindan collapse to the ground.

He dropped Gond's lead and rushed over to Raefindan. "Raefindan," he said loudly, slapping the man's face gently. "Wake up." He did not. Ravion turned to Aeron. "Get me my skin of water," he ordered, and the boy did not hesitate to obey, for once. If Ravion had not been so distracted, he would have appreciated it.

Aeron handed him the skin, and the Ranger poured some of it over Raefindan's face. The man stirred and moaned, but did not wake. Ravion put his hand to the man's forehead, and then drew it back quickly, cursing. He was very feverish. "We will have to get him on Gond, and tie him on," he said to his companions. "Aeron, help me pick him up. Mellonin, find some rope in Gond's saddlebags." Gwyllion's face fell: she was the only one who had not received an order. Ravion sighed. "Gwyllion, hold Gond's lead." All of them went to start their tasks. Aeron, a serious but slightly frightened look on his face, placed himself at Raefindan's legs. "Are you ready?" Ravion asked quietly. Aeron nodded. "On three. One, two...three..."

The two of them lifted their companion and brought him to Gond, where Mellonin was waiting with the rope. Ravion hefted the unconscious man onto the horse, and took the rope from Mellonin, quickly tying it around Raefindan. He tried to place the man in something resembling a comfortable position, but he would likely awaken and find himself with a nasty crick in his neck. Mellonin had her arms crossed tightly over her chest, as though defending herself against whatever it was that had stricken Raefindan.

"Do you suppose he will be okay?" she asked, her voice soft. She did not take her eyes off of Raefindan.

Ravion pulled a knot tight, which looked most unfortunately like shrugging. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Mellonin tense up. He turned around and sighed. "I think that he will be fine," he said. "Once he wakes, I will give him some herbs that should clear out his chest."

"What about his fever?" Aeron asked, tying the ropes on his side of Gond.

"His fever will stay," Ravion said. "Fire cleanses...he will feel better once the fever dies on its own. What we should be worried about is the...what did he call it? His cold? He used a word I did not know."

"New-moan-ya," Gwyllion supplied proudly.

Ravion inclined his head in thanks. "That was it. We have to worry about the new-moan-ya. I will treat it like a cold, and hope that it gets better. If we come across a town, which I do not think we will until we get past the Entwash delta, I will take him to a healer. For now, we will simply wait, and pray."

Erebemlin smiled slightly despite the seriousness of Ædegard’s questions. “No, I do not deem you foolish for I know little of the ways of Men. As to your question…it has been close to one thousand years since Lord Amroth left us. He meant to join his lady at the havens in the south, and together they would sail to the Undying Lands.” The elf paused to gather his thoughts and then continued. “Nimrodel never made it to their destination, and while Amroth waited upon his ship a great storm blew and pushed the ship from shore. The tales say that once he realized he was no longer at the shore, he leapt into the sea. You must have heard the lady Bellyn’s song last night.” Erebemlin sang just loud enough for Ædegard to hear him.

But from the West has come no word,
And on the Hither Shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard
Of Amroth evermore.

“And so he perished in sea?” Ædegard asked quietly.

“That is what we have always believed.”

“How, then, did he get here…in the blacksmith’s body?”

Erebemlin took a deep breath. The young man was asking him difficult questions to which he did not know the answers. “I wish I understood that myself. Amroth does not seem to even realize he is not the same, and he says he only remembers waking in Edoras. I would say that only the mighty Valar could allow his return…or Illúvatar himself…”

The Valar? Iluvatar himself? Ædegard blew out a sigh. That set things at a different slant than he had thought. Suddenly, their quest seemed a hard slog always uphill.

"If Amroth perished in the sea, Erebemlin, then his ghost must have passed to the Halls of Mandos. Do I have the right of it?"

"Aye," Erebemlin replied with a kindly smile.

"And if 'tis so, then Mandos has given his leave for Amroth's ghost to return. Why would his ghost have need of a body?"

Ædegard looked at Erebemlin, who shrugged, as baffled as he was. "Mellon, your questions are not foolish, but seek out wisdom that is beyond the Children of Iluvatar, it seems. I must think on this for a while, but I do not think that I will come to an answer; not without aid."

"What kind of aid, sir?"

Erebemlin laughed. "Please do not call me sir! Mellon is enough if my name comes not easily to your lips. I do not know what kind of aid. The road ahead shall show us, I think."

It was Ædegard's turn to look on Erebemlin in bemusement. After a moment he smiled and said, "My thanks, mellon, for listening to the pryings of a humble human wheelwright."

"It has been my pleasure, friend Ædegard. Do keep wrestling with these questions of yours. We may find from them answers we did not know we needed."

Deep in woods he walks, not far from his home. He loves to walk among the trees. He stops. A light voice is lifted in sad song. He hurries toward it and hides behind the eaves of a fir tree. An Elven lady is seated upon a small grassy knoll where trees do not grow. Her head hangs and she holds herself up by one arm. She is pale and faint, her face full of beauty and misery, her hair black and long. She is from his dreams! Before thought can stop him, he comes to her from out of the trees and kneels before her. She looks up and sees him as if looking upon a fair vision from far away. She falls and he catches her, light as down. He carries her to his home, holding her close. Her hair smells of fresh leaves, her breath of flowers. Her hair, black, is radiant, shining like stars in deep night. He takes her into his home and lays her on his bed and succors her, and sleeps at night on the floor next to her bed. Many days she sleeps, but finally wakes. Her eyes are filled with sadness, but she looks upon him as if she has known him all his life, and gladness seems mingled with her sadness. He cannot express his joy, but brings her drink and a bit of bread, which she accepts with a smile.

Last edited by littlemanpoet; 05-29-2004 at 12:32 PM.
Reason: Revised the meeting of Imrazor and Mithrellas

Liornung walked by Bellyn and Argeleafa, gazing about him as well as keeping watch on them. He would not care for either of them to wander off and become lost... perhaps wander to some other Elf who would not deal with them as kindly as the Elves in their company had. But, nay, he had always heard that Elves were kindly creatures. Yet to find two mortals wandering about in their lands? Liornung shook his head. It did not matter what another Elf might do, for the young women would not become lost at all.

Argeleafa had been silent all the day, and while she seemed calm and composed she spoke very distantly with everyone. Yet she did not fool Liornung, for he often saw her when she did not know he was looking, and she gazed wistfully at the company as they talked with each other. He knew how much she longed to join them, and again and again he had tried to invite her to speak with them, but she refused his offers every time. Perhaps it was not his acceptance she wanted. She seemed to hesitate to join them even if one was willing. It seemed as though she would not until all of them expressed their willingness. Liornung knew the others would enjoy her company, but she did not.

I wander under leaves of gold
a forest that seems young and old.
Knowing eyes and silent feet
I see in every Elf I meet.
Lothlorien, how fair are you!
Each leaf of gold glimmers true,
and the fair grass quivering
in winds through trees shivering.

"Where did you hear that song, Liornung?" Bellyn questioned. She was looking thoughtfully at him out of brown eyes. She had apparently enjoyed the song, for the traces of delight were present in her face. Argeleafa had heard the song but said nothing.

"I did not hear it," Liornung replied, "from any Man nor from Elf, but it came to me last night in a soft wind." He remembered that sweet breath of wind that had brought the song to his heart, but more than that he recalled the tears of Argeleafa, the poor little lass longing for home. He hoped their journey would end soon, for her sake at least. She wanted nothing more than to return home, but it could not be until the end of the journey. And for his sake, too! He wanted to return to the 'Inn' where all his friends awaited him. How many times he had wished for that on their roads.

"Bella," he said, and she looked up at him again, "what have you thought of our journey thus far? Have you enjoyed it as much as you thought you would, or do you find yourself longing to return home?" He paused and realized that he had only met her because she also was at the 'Inn.' It posed a new question. "And where is your home? Do you have any family where you come from?" He let his questions cease, seeing that they might be rather annoying, and looked to Ædegard. What family did that young man have besides his sister? Where did he come from? Where did he intend to go when the journey was over?

He sighed and shook his head. He had believed he had known his companions quite well, but in all truth he hardly knew them at all.

Bellyn blushed momentarily at the sudden change of subject and the sudden shift of attention to her. When she'd quickly regained her composure, Bellyn wondered where to start with Liornung's questioning. Liornung had brought up a very good point. None of them knew where Bellyn really came from, other than that she originally hailed from Gondor. Is it a story they would like to know, or that I would even like to tell? Bellyn asked herself.

She looked to her companions. They would be together on the road for days, Bellyn knew. The bond between them was strengthening, even with new companions like Argeleafa, Mellon, and the elf. Besides, Bellyn could not bear to refuse Liornung the information he had asked for.

"This journey is hardly ended, and hardly even started. Still, I have already learned much. I never thought that something like love could drive a person to travel and search as we have. I had never seen such a beautiful place as this...before when drawing I was restricted to things I had imagined in my mind, and now I can see all of my art come to life right in front of me. The power of music and love - when put together, I suppose - has shown me a new level of determination..." Bellyn replied, nodding to Liornung and giving an inviting smile to Argeleafa. "As far as where my home is, I live in Edoras with my brother and my father. I used to live in Minas Tirith with..." Bellyn paused. "My father and mother and my two brothers. My father is always away now, travelling and exploring and making maps. I was in the care of my brother, but I spend so much time at Inns drawing that I do not think I will be missed much."

Bellyn took a breath, suddenly glad that they knew where she came from, whether they really wanted to know or not.

"Really though, I'm glad to finally be the one exploring, and not the one sitting lonely at an inn drawing what I wish I saw." Bellyn added thoughtfully. "Argeleafa, what do you think of your journey so far? I know you must miss your family...do you think well of any of it?"

Location: Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars

Posts: 4,396

Dec 17, Departing Lorien: Amroth

Amroth heard the surrounding chatter as if from a great distance; almost as if he stood on the Dagorlad hearing the whispers of far-off minds.

Those whispers were a great comfort to him. He stood surrounded by dust and pits, and reeking fumes swirled around him; nothing, not even slime or mould lived here. All was blasted, wasted. He combed past mounds and pits and heaps of slag and puddles rimmed with poisonous oils.

Where are you?

He looked for her footprints in the dust. Among many, there were none like hers. There were no minds there to touch, to find momentary rest in, and the strain of searching was terrible.

When the sun reached its height, he broke off his search and was half surprised to find himself riding by the river. The mingled music of running water, hoofbeats, and friendly voices was so lovely he shed silent tears.

Argeleafa started when she heard Bellyn speak to her, and then she flushed with pleasure and some shyness. She moved a little closer to the group, dropping her dancing eyes to hide the joy in them. Liornung cast a grateful look at Bellyn. Perhaps the latter didn't even know what Argeleafa felt, but it was welcome for someone to speak to the lass. Argeleafa lifted the skirt of her dress a little above her ankles to allow her to walk more freely. She stared intensely at the ground, longing to look up at Bellyn as she spoke but much too shy. "I... I don't know what I think of our journey," she said, "but I do miss my home, and my family. Sometimes I wish I was home now and not treading these roads, but... I also wish this journey would never end, for I know when it does I shall have nowhere to go. I do not want to stay at my home all alone, but I do not want to rejoin my parents for to do so I would rejoin the wayfarers."

Liornung drew in a sharp breath. He had not considered that. He had been intending to bring the girl back to her home and family when the journey was over, but he realized now it was impossible. She had no home, and her family was with the wayfarers. She did not want to go back to that life; she couldn't go back to that life. Yet... where else could she go? Even if the house had not been sold by her father, could she stay there all alone? Perhaps she had an uncle or a grandfather somewhere. How simple it would be if she had a lover. A husband would solve all difficulties. "Argeleafa, have you any relations? An uncle, perhaps, or grandparents?"

She looked at him in surprise at the unexpected question. "Why, no, I don't," she said. "My uncles died in the War when I was very young, and my grandparents died in a sickness that came to the village they lived in. My only relations are my parents."

"What about..." He hesitated. It was an odd question to ask. "To put it quite bluntly, have you any lover?"

She blushed and for a moment a glimmer of hope came to him, but then she shook her head. And she was being truthful, as well. Alas for that. She must have merely been the kind of lass that thought the subject rather delicate. She had no lover, she had no relations. Perhaps Ædegard would know what she should do. No, no, of course not. Ædegard was the leader of their group on this journey. It was not his business what the members of their company did at the end. And if Liornung could think of nothing, could Ædegard think of anything?

He cast it aside in his mind. Their journey was not yet close to being ended, and he would concern himself with the problem when the time came. For now he would be light and merry. He turned to Bellyn, a smile on his face. "Sing a song for us, sweet Bella," he said. "Your voice is lovely, and I think it would please Lord Amroth."

Bellyn was not used to so many wonderful comments being directed towards her. She had already grown tired of blushing, but it came so easily. Bellyn decided her new goal would be to learn to take such comments and compliments in a stride. Bellyn was certainly not used to anyone calling her sweet or her voice lovely.

"If it pleases you and the Lord Amroth, then sing I shall, without hesitation!" Bellyn declared, smiling. She searched her mind for a song she knew, though she knew very few. There is that one song...the one mother used to sing... Bellyn thought, though her heart ached slightly at the memory. Still, Bellyn did not want to deny Liornung what he had asked of her. Her light alto voice started out timidly at first, but she grew in confidence when she thought that she had caught Amroth's attention. She hoped it calmed him, and even if it did no such thing, Bellyn felt better singing than she ever thought she could.

"Hark where the night is falling,
Hark hear the pipes a-calling!
Loudly and proudly calling down through the glen.
There where the hills are sleeping!
Now feel the blood a-leaping
High as the spirits of the old highland men...

Towering in gallant hand,
Gondor my mountain land!
High may your proud standards gloriously wave.
Land of my high endeavor,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart forever, Gondor the Brave.

High in the white-topped mountains,
Out by the purple highlands.
Brave are the hearts that beat beneath Gondorian skies.
Wild are the winds to meet you,
Staunch are the friends that greet you.
Kind as the love that shines from fair maidens eyes."

Bellyn sighed, feeling light-hearted and glad that Liornung had asked her to sing.

"Thank you, good friend," Liornung said, sighing with relief. "You ease my mind greatly. Perhaps we can come up with some solution together." He was at peace once again. True, the difficulty was still there. Ædegard had said he would think on it. He had not given an answer. Yet hope was rekindled and it seemed more than likely an answer would arise. He felt a song rising up at him and, smiling in a carefree way, opened his mouth and let the words tumble forth as a river goes over a brink as a waterfall of sweet music.

Little bird upon your tree
singing so soft and sweet
why do you gaze so odd at me
whenever we two meet?
I admit I look a sight;
dirty and weary is my plight
and stranger still in day's light.
Little bird upon your tree
I beg you stop looking so at me!

Little bird upon your tree
I hear your voice has ceased.
The way you now stare at me
I must be a hungry beast!
Though my face is tired and worn,
my back bent with heavy trials born
and by many men scorned,
oh little bird upon your tree
don't you think better of me?

Little bird upon your tree
now I see you fly away.
So scared you were by sight of me
you could no longer stay.
Now I raise my weary eyes
to gaze upon the cloudless skies
and hope to one day claim as my prize,
little bird upon your tree,
your friendly look bestowed on me.

He finished his song and looked to Ædegard, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Remember our little game?" he questioned. "Perhaps you would care to take your turn!"

Gwyllion stroked Raefindan's fevered brow, and wondered about him. He had so many strange, delightful words. Where had he come from? His hair was red...yet he had fair skin like her own. So he could not be from the south. Yet he was not from the north either, because the northerners did not have red hair.

Could he have come from across the sea? Her eyes brightened, and her fingers trailed in his hair. What was across the sea? Men with red hair such as his?

He whimpered a little in his sleep, and she touched his forehead again. It was very hot...she wondered how far they would travel today, and if Raefindan would travel easily or not. Turning to Ravion, she asked, "How hard are we going to travel today?"

Ravion ran a weary hand over his own forehead, looking worriedly at the still-unconscious figure of Raefindan. "We will ride as far and hard as we can, but we will not weary ourselves too much," he said to Gwyllion. "The delta is not far away...I hope that we can get there before we have to set up camp. What think you, Mellonin?" He turned to the young man, who, looking pale, was standing close to Raefindan. She looked up at him with her wan face. "Can you hold out until the delta?"

"I can do what I must," Mellonin replied quietly. Ravion frowned, but said nothing. He decided to give her time. Hopefully they could reach the delta without their grief being too validated.

Her name is Mithrellas, and she seeks for her Mistress, who has become lost in the highlands beneath the White Mountains. Mithrellas has been separated from her companions by evil fate brought upon them by dissonant song falling upon their ears from whence she knows not. She names him he who has saved her life.

A day comes when she is back to full health, save that which only joy can bring to her kind, and she asks him to help her find her Mistress. He gives her a white mare to ride, and he rides his black stallion, and they scour the hills and vales side by side for days into weeks, finding nothing. She names him friend.

At last, winter threatens to surround them, and they return to his home. He is unable to relieve her sorrow, but devotes himself to her in all things. She names him heart's friend.

"Would you hear one of the lays of Rohan, or shall I try a rhyme after the manner of Liornung?"

"Sing what you like, friend!"

"Let me think on this, and I will, I hope, have a song for you when we make camp tonight."

"I can wait," Liornung replied. "What of you, Bellyn? Argeleafa?"

Bellyn smiled and said that she could wait, but Argeleafa looked startled to have been included, and blushed. It made her seem fairer. Ædegard had been aware of her from the start, and thought her a welcome addition to the party if only because she was Rohirric as was he, but her plight prodded his interest.

"So be it!" Ædegard smiled to each of them, last of all to Argeleafa, meeting her eyes. The smile she returned was brief; she bit her lip her face became sad again. Ædegard bent himself to the task of song.

Night came and the party camped at the edge of Lorien, south of where the Silverlode joins the Anduin. Liornung asked for Ædegard's song.

"I am sorry. I need more time."

The watch was divided between them, and the night passed uneventful.

On the next day, Ædegard rode next to Argeleafa and asked her about her life. She was shy and easily overcome with homesickness. Ædegard told her that he felt the same at times, having left his family back in Edoras. Most of that day was spent in quiet, and sometimes Ædegard rode in front, sometimes near the Elves, sometimes beside Argeleafa.

Liornung reminded Ædegard that he owed them a song.

"I shall have one ready tonight, I am thinking."

The party made camp where the Limlight flowed into the Anduin. The river curved back north and east, around a great rise of land between the north and south undeeps. The Wolds were to their south. Ædegard wondered which way Amroth would lead them now. He was content to let him lead, him and his Elven companion Erebemlin. They sat around the campfire. Ædegard had his song ready.

Fair are the fields of green Rohan,
Warm is the sun that shines on the land,
From mountain to wood, from marsh to river,
Mild is its rain, good grain giver.

Deep in my heart are you, Rohan my home,
Far from your quiet fields now I roam.
In a distant land bends my way,
But I shall return to you some day.

Many tales I shall speak to each friend,
Of stout hearts whose words always mend,
Of loyal friends on the road I did greet,
And a maiden fair it was my joy to meet.

Ædegard had allowed his eyes to wander from face to face as he sang his song. On the last line he looked to the face of Argeleafa, and caught and held her gaze, and did not look away. She had been wiping her eyes while he sang the first lines, but her eyes widened at the end, and they told him that she knew his meaning. She looked away then, and back to him, and away.

"A fine song, Ædegard," said Liornung. "I see you have indeed been giving thought, though the song seems unfinished."

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Anorien, Dec 20: Mellonin

Ravion led Gond, and Gwyllion and Mellonin walked one on Gond's left and one n Gond's right, watching and listening to Raefindan.

Gwyllion echoed his fevered words in her soft voice. Mellonin listened to them both, and whispered them again to herself.

"Forest. Highlands. Rest. Sorrow. Mithril. Lost. Waiting."

"What is Mithril-lost?" Gwyllion asked. "Who lost it? Did Raefindan?"

Mellonin shook her head. "I do not know."

"Sometimes he sounds happy," Gwyllion said.

She nodded, and reached up and stroked his red, drenched hair. To her surprise, Raefindan murmured snatches of a song she did not know.

Ravion turned back to look at her. "That song is not often sung in our land. Yet I have heard it before."

"Whence comes it?" Mellonin asked.

"The south, where the Anduin meets Belfalas," Ravion answered. "It likens the lover's heart to the surging sea-tide, and the beloved to the moon. It is very old."

"How would he know such a song?" Mellonin wondered.

Ravion replied, "I do not know."

Gwyllion replied, "The lover must be sad, for who can catch the moon?"

Mellonin hid a wry smile. The moonstruck lass was no fool. Gwyllion took a turn at smoothing Raefindan's brow, and Mellonin wondered what young Gwyllion thought of love. Had Gwyllion ever loved a man? Mellonin's own heart had been snared before, for a day, or a year. But each time she held her peace, and each time the shining one slowly faded.

Mellonin gazed for a moment at Ravion's back, and warned herself. What good is it to grasp at the moon? It cannot be caught, or held, or kept; and it is no refuge.

She turned her attention to Raefindan, who had finished his song, and now murmured again.

A frown pulled heavily on Ravion's features. There was no way that Raefindan could have known that song...unless he was much better-travelled than he appeared to be. Or perhaps he had a parent from the south? Unlikely. He had no trace of a Southron's accent. Besides, Ravion was getting that feeling again...the odd one he had gotten when he met Mellonin, that told him something strange was happening.

He touched Raefindan's forehead, which was still very warm. The Ranger sighed deeply, and poured some water on a rag to put on Raefindan's head. The man was still murmuring to himself, though Ravion could not make out the words; however, this was still less disconcerting than the song.

They had been walking for a fair while as Raefindan lay unconscious, and it was beginning to worry Ravion. He was no healer, but he knew that the longer one remained unconscious, the more harm had likely been inflicted to your body...and the more likely harm was still being inflicted. He hoped that Raefindan woke up before nightfall, or he would truly be concerned; a day or more unconscious usually meant real danger. Or so he had heard.

That was what angered him most: he did not know what to do. He literally did not have the knowledge. He could not help Raefindan, except to try to break the fever if it got too high. He did not know how to diagnose or treat this illness, and he wanted too very badly. He wanted to be a leader. Like his father would have been.

He could feel the muscles in his back tighten at the thought. Best to change the subject. "Mellonin," he said quickly, "does Raefindan have a history of illnesses like this? Is this something...chronic? Has he recovered from something like this in the past?"

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Evening Dec 18, morning Dec 19 : Near Field of Celebrant

The two elves offered to take the first two watches, and the men happily agreed.

Ædegard bid for the third, but Liornung forbad him. "I shall take the last watch; rest, Ædegard. "

With a wry smile, Ædegard gave way. The horses grazed southeastward where the rivers met. Amroth and Nethwador slept east of the fire towards the Anduin, Liornung and Ædegard westward towards the Limlight, and Bella and Argeleafa on the north side. The elves paced at the edge of the firelight, circling the group, with Erebemlin closely guarding Amroth's dreams.

Nethwador woke often, and twice he sat up. The elves saw that his dark brown eyes fixed on them, and asked him why he did not rest. He brooded, and pointed first to the stars, and then he glanced over at Lady Bella.

"She is well, " Taitheneb assured him. "Fear not." But Nethwador did not lie back down, and glanced now and again at Ædegard and Liornung, and folded his arms across his chest.

"You know of the battle that was fought near here?" asked Taitheneb, in word and thought.

The hatred is old, and deep, replied Nethwador. Taitheneb heard the young, ragged Easterling, and knew his fear of the Rohirrim, and his joy in Lady Bella's dark hair. Amroth, too, had dark hair.

Bellyn could not sleep that night. Her mind went over and over how important it was that she get sleep, but something unsettled her and kept her from rest. Bellyn closed her eyes, but remained in the waking world as the elves paced around the sleeping Men. Thoughts of the colors and the imagry she had seen on the trip rolled over and over in her head, as well as the mystery revolving around Amroth and his dreams.

"She is well, " Bellyn heard a voice. She shifted her head to see if she could catch who had spoken, but all she could see was Mellon sitting bolt upright diagonal to her on the east side of the fire. "Fear not." Bellyn heard speaking again and wondered who had spoken. Certainly it was not Mellon... Bellyn thought, but this made her even more curious as Mellon...or Nethwador, as the elves had named him...was the only one Bellyn could see awake.

"You know of the battle that was fought near here?"

No one spoke in answer to the question, but Bellyn wondered at this inquiry. Bellyn knew exactly where on a map the group had settled, and knew the coordinates and surroundings. Bellyn even knew popular myths about many places, but she did not know what battle had been fought near to where the group slept and rested.

Soon Liornung took watch, for Bellyn could see him rise and could hear him whisper to someone that Bellyn could not see. Bellyn tried to sleep at this point, and rested soundly until the first rays of light boldly hit her freckled cheeks. Rising, Bellyn stretched and looked to the elf Taitheneb.

"Sir, what battle was faught close to this place?" she asked, curious and tired.

Aeron snorted. What folly was this? A lover's heart a tide, the lover the moon? If he could not gain the woman he loved, why love at all? Why give your heart away to someone who could not -- would not more than likely -- return it? Aeron rolled his eyes and frowned.

And the illnesses...tortured dreams...nightmares, Aeron thought as he peered at Mellonin's stony face. He glanced at Gwyllion. Her eyes were wide, the black pupil swallowing the brown, her mouth parted, and her fingers of her right hand entwining the red hair of Raefindans, while she curled the horses mane in the fingers of her other hand. She looked liked a hungry animal, constraining herself before a tantalizing morsel.

"What dreams, my lady," she whispered.

Mellonin glanced at her. Silent.

Must Gwyllion always ask such things? Things that were foolish, inconsequential...why did she need to know? Why did it matter if Mellonin was sick or not? Everyone became sick. That was that.

She is ever at his side as they search the hills again in the spring. He has done all he knows to do in caring for her through the winter, and he is hopeful. Whenever she looks at him, a smile comes to her face, and the darkness that stays with her when she thinks of her Mistress, passes for a moment.

Secretly he hopes that she will give up hope of finding her Mistress and choose to stay with him always, but he curbs his hope and does all she asks.

Only from her mouth does his name sound kindly: Imrazor. It is a name from an aged people, a people once great, who had known and ridden the sea. The sea scares her.

Taitheneb smiled at the young woman as he pulled his golden hair taut and replaced the leather tie. “You know naught of the history of the land of which you draw in your maps, Miss Bellyn?” The elf was only jesting, but his words made the young woman blush. “I apologize.” As he spoke he felt Nethwador’s gaze cut through him as though the young boy was protecting Bellyn. “I am not as learned in the history of Men, but I do know of slaughter that took place to our south.”

As he motioned to the area known as the Parth Celebrant, Taitheneb began to tell what he knew of the Northern Army of Gondor and their hopeless battle against the wild men from the East and Orcs from the South. The young woman’s eyes widened as the elf spoke of their desperate call for help.

“Then from the South rode Eorl the Young,” young Ædegard stepped in to Taitheneb’s surprise and relief. “They say that fear flew before him and the enemies fled in panic. It was this feat that gained this land for our people.” Taitheneb noticed the young man pause then add, “My people.”

An awkward silence followed as the basic ethnic differences between the individual travelers was brought forward.

Erebemlin, who had silently watched and listened, spoke up and encouraged the Men to eat quickly and ready themselves for the day ahead. The elf had spoken with Amroth as soon as he had awakened, and it seemed the king wished for the group to travel south along the Anduin. “She has always loved the water” was Amroth’s reasoning, and although Erebemlin was not as confident about finding her there, he agreed to accompany his king wherever the search led him.

Erebemlin continued to contemplate the meanings of Amroth’s dreams, but his reasoning was difficult because he now watched over the king and ensured peaceful, dreamless sleep. He needed to see Amroth’s dark wandering thoughts to fully understand whether he had found the Lady Nimrodel or not, but with Amroth in poor health, Erebemlin did not feel he could speak of it just yet.

All the day they traveled along the Anduin. The tension did not ease. Ædegard could feel Nethador's eyes boring into his back. Bellyn seemed ill at ease too, and it took all Liornung's mirth to get a smile out of her all the day. Aregeleafa rode alongside Bellyn and kept to herself. She had not said a single word since Ædegard's song the night before. Perhaps he had been wrong to speak so. Or, perhaps it had been the wisest thing to do, for it seemed to show quickly that the future did not hold such a fix to Aregeleafa's problem as he had had in mind. Maybe he was hasty to cast aside such a hope. He did not know her well, and maybe she needed time to think. He warred with himself much of the day whether to say a friendly word to her, or to leave her to herself.

He left her to herself.

They camped the next night at the mouth of the Limlight. The water still bore no ice, but it was cold, and quiet. With water on three sides, Ædegard wondered what way was next.

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night of Dec 19, Limlight & Anduin

Amroth stood off to one side and gazed southeast, stroking Echo as the rest prepared camp. His mind was closed to his friends, still seeking, combing through dust and ash.

After the other men were asleep, Nethwador settled some forty yards apart from the others toward the north. He sat gazing towards Bella, and kept an eye on Ædegard and Liornung. His lanky chestnut stood near him. Amroth paid him little heed.

Argeleafa sat close to Bellyn, aware that Nethwador's eyes were fixed on the latter. It made her uneasy, the way he was always staring at Bellyn. She felt an unexplained guilt come over her, and as swiftly it had come it was explained. She had been sorrowful that she had been ignored, yet she had ignored Nethwador very much. It was so hard to speak with him, though. He seemed suspicious of everyone. But she was afraid of the attentions of everyone, despite that she longed for them.

Ædegard.... he had been very kind to her. He had spoken to her almost the whole previous day, though he had not said much to her this day. To speak to her so much... not many people had ever treated her so warmly. She had not said much to him in return. Why? Yesterday night she had come up with many clever, friendly, enjoyable remarks to make in return to his. Why could they not have come sooner? Ah, but so many things to say had come and she had been too shy to speak.

And then he had sung that lovely song. She had never heard it before. But of course she wouldn't have, for he had composed it that very day. She had asked Liornung about it and he had told her about the game they had played. Liornung had not sung his song yet. Perhaps he was waiting for Bellyn, or for her. That was nonsense. No one would want her to sing. Perhaps her voice was well enough, but she did not know of songs to match those that had been sung.

"Nethwador." He turned his eyes to her and she smiled. "Hello," she said. Bellyn started; she had been deep in thought and Argeleafa's voice had surprised her. She also looked at Nethwador and, following Argeleafa's example, smiled at him, yet she looked rather ill at ease. She had seemed uneasy the whole day.

Argeleafa saw that Nethwador's attentions were fixed solely on Bellyn; he would not even look at her. No matter. She had grown used to it. At least she had the consolation she had been friendly. She began to sing in a barely audible voice.

"Deep in my heart are you, Rohan my home,
Far from your quiet fields now I roam.
In a distant land bends my way,
But I shall return to you some day."

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Erebemlin's dignity prevented it, but he was surprised enough by the question that his jaw nearly dropped. Had they not said on the flet that tales and songs told of her fate? And yet, Amroth gazed at Erebemlin as if this was the first time he or Taitheneb had ever spoken of them.

Erebemlin and Taitheneb exchanged glances. They seemed torn between pity and ire.

Ravion was a little taken aback by Mellonin's curt response. Had he said something? Perhaps he had offended her. What had it been? He didn't know...so he figured the best course of action was to pretend that nothing had happened at all.

Ravion looked up at the sky, and saw that the orange sun was drifting towards the horizon. "Night is coming," he announced. Aeron rolled his eyes.

"Thank you for the startling proclamation," the boy said sarcastically. Ravion cuffed him on the head, and he rolled with it well. He was learning. Aeron rubbed his head a little, but did not make any noises of pain.

"Good job," the Ranger whispered. Aeron rolled his eyes again, but grinned. Ravion smiled at Mellonin, who ignored him. His smile faded, and he went on purposefully to Raefindan.

It was then that his smile faded for true. His red-haired friend was still unconscious, his murmuring and shallow breathing the only signs that he was living. Ravion inhaled sharply to bring down a stab of grief and anxiety, and brushed a lock of red hair from Raefindan's forehead. A forehead that was still warm and dry with fever. The fever was not breaking. Ravion cursed quietly, and brought out some herbs. He tipped Raefindan's head up and put the herbs in the unconscious man's mouth. Maybe it would help break the fever.

"We need to keep moving," he called firmly, trying to distract himself. "Keep going. We can rest after the sun goes down."

"Deep in my heart are you, Rohan my home,
Far from your quiet fields now I roam.
In a distant land bends my way,
But I shall return to you some day."

Ædegard's hearing was good enough that he could make out the words, though sung as quietly as the winter breeze. He was glad of the darkness, for his chest filled with longing and tears came to his eyes. He wiped his eyes, and the tightness in his chest opened up as he thought about the sweet voice that had brought those words back to him. The maiden of Rohan had heard, and memorized his words! He felt as if he could fly among the stars!

So she was very shy. That was a relief to know. There was hope. He lay down, but sleep was far away. You are not in your right mind! he told himself. Just two days ago, this maiden of Rohan had been on the edge of his awareness, and now she rivaled the quest in his thoughts. Moonstruck is what you are! He rolled over and tried to slow his heart with steady breaths. Admit it, fool of a wheelwright! Love struck is more like it! He pulled a face, then a smile spread across his lips. He closed his eyes and in a short while dozed.

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Twilight, Dec. 20: nearing the Entwash Delta

Mellonin paced alongside Gond, stroking Raefindan's hair and listening to him murmur. Ravion had picked up the pace yet again, and Gwyllion and Mellonin marched with set jaw ignoring various aches and pains. Mellonin hoped that they would reach the delta soon.

She reviewed Ravion's plan. Seven streams fed the Anduin. The path swung westward to avoid the marshes and swamps. The first stream was not far. She wondered what "not far" meant.

Gwyllion stroked Raefindan's hair. "Listen. He's singing again."

The tide and the moon. Mellonin wanted to learn the song.

No, she didn't.

She bit back tears, and her eyes strayed to the Ranger's back. He was so calm. He handled Aeron well. He was determined to find her brother. And he could be gentle as well as fierce.

"Will he be all right." She regretted saying it. She regretted it even more when the look Ravion turned on her was full of concern. She looked down, but he had seen the tears in her eyes. Inwardly she cursed her clumsiness even as the tears began to roll. She turned her head away.

The strange redhaired man who named dogs Jorje and asked who the king was and did not know how to do simple work-- in just a short time he had become important to her, and now he was, so it would seem, on the brink of death.

You must not die. You must live. Wake up, and let the fever break. Wake up, redhaired man. Wake up, Raefindan, my friend.

She turned her face to the ground, and hoped that no one noticed her tears.

Gwyllion saw Mellonin turn her face away, and Gwyllion sighed. Raefindan was such a jolly fellow. It would be horrid if he died. Who would tell them all about the strange words he knew?

Creeping towards the woman, Gwyllion saw a tear trickle down her cheek, glinting softly in the lingering light. Touching her shoulder, she turned grasped the end of her shirt and wiped the tears away. Smiling, she said, "Do not cry yet. Raefindan is not dead, thus your tears are early. When he dies, then you must cry. To cry now is to despair of hope, even though there is scarce any hope."

Aeron called over his shoulder, "Crying is silly anyway, whether he lives or not."

Why must he always be so...tactless? Was that any way to treat a grieving woman? No. Merely because crying had not helped him whenever he had cried -- had he ever cried? --, did not mean that crying was silly. "Do not listen to him, my lady," she whispered.

She bit her lips and glanced from the woman to the redhaired man. She remembered Mellonin saying she had been sick. What had happened that shackled her tongue? "What dreams plagued you when you were sick, Mellonin?"

He slinks behind the big-one-toed-dog. The red man is on that one. He stays to one side. Grainy bigonetoedog how-I-am-fruit misses him. His tail drags in the dust almost. The other mans forget him. He cries with the she-man. Red man is bad feeling in his head. Yorye stays with them. Never leaves!